


Do They Know it's Christmas Time At All?

by I_have_a_Mycroft_of_my_very_own



Series: Barduil [13]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Modern AU, hey at least I'm not posting this actually on Christmas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-04
Updated: 2016-03-04
Packaged: 2018-05-24 16:39:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6159898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_have_a_Mycroft_of_my_very_own/pseuds/I_have_a_Mycroft_of_my_very_own
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“It’s not right to have all this festive stuff up when there’s nothing good to celebrate today!”</p><p>“I hate Christmas. I hate it!”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Do They Know it's Christmas Time At All?

**Author's Note:**

> Based on this heartbreaking driving safety ad from NZ that used to play years ago at Christmas Time. You can find it here https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kQX6-nUx-BQ

_I'll be home for Christmas_  
_You can plan on me_  
 _~I'll Be Home For Christmas, Bing Crosby._

* * *

“Tilda, get the phone!” Bard yells as he chases after their dog, Beorn, who is tracking mud everywhere.

“Is it Uncle Percy?!” Tilda exclaims as she rushes to the telephone.

“Don’t know, darling. Answer it.” Tilda clambers up onto the chair and pulls the phone down, giggling when the cord catches a little on some tinsel.

“Hello, Uncle Percy?” she asks happily, twirling the cord around her little fingers. There’s a hesitant little silence on the other end, before someone sighs.

“Sorry, sweetie. Is your father there?” a serious but gentle voice asks, and Tilda glances over to where Beorn has her father trapped on the floor so he can lick her dad’s face, Bard’s green paper crown somehow remaining on his head.

“Aha.”

“Can you put him on the phone, darling?”

“Sure!” Tilda says, letting the phone hang buy its cord and climbing down from the seat. “Da! Phone is for you.” Her father frowns at her, pushing Beorn off him.

“Who is it?”

“I don’t know.” Tilda shrugs her shoulders, before running past Bard and out into the garden to play, Beorn trailing behind her. Bard wipes his hands on his pants and grabs the phone.

“Hello?”

“Mr. Bard Bowman?” the voice asks, and part of Bard _knows,_ you get a call like this and somehow you just always know.

“Yes?” he answers, voice shaking slightly.

“Sir, at approximately eight o’clock this morning, Mr. Thranduil Greenwood was involved in a head on collision with another car.”

“Oh God.” Bard exclaims, his breath catching in his throat. “Is he-?”

“He died on impact, sir.”

“Oh my God!” Bard feels the tears burning his eyes, and he sinks down into the chair below the phone.

“If you’d like to come down to the station to identify the body?”

“Yeah. Uhm, yeah, I’ll be right there. I just… I just need to find someone to watch the kids.” Bard says, though it won’t be a hard task. Half of their street is here for the party, not to mention Bard and Thranduil’s friends from work. “I-I- thank you.” Bard says, before he hugs the phone to his chest and takes a few moments to pull himself together.

* * *

“Will you two hurry up?” Legolas yells up the stairs to his flat mates. “We’re going to be late!”

“It's Christmas! This is one of the only times you can’t be late to the party unless you don’t show up at all.” Gimli yells back, Legolas scowls.

“Just get down here.”

“Just because you take no time at all to groom.”

“Aragorn! You haven’t washed your hair in five days, don’t you go on at me about grooming.”

“Excuse you, I washed my hair just last night!” Aragorn retorts when the phone starts ringing. “Someone get that!”

“I’ve got it!” Legolas yells, wandering into the kitchen and grabbing the phone from the wall. “Hello?”

“Ah, Mr. Legolas Greenwood?”

“Yes? What’s this about?” Legolas asks, listening to the sounds of movement from above.

“Sir, I regret to inform you that at approximately eight o’clock this morning, Mr. Thranduil Greenwood was involved in a head on collision with another vehicle. He died upon impact.”

“What?” Legolas exclaims, eyes wide. “S-say that again?”

“Your father has been involved in a car crash. He died on impact.” The voice repeats, gentler this time.

“But I- no, I just spoke to him this morning. He was fine I-I don’t understand.”

“Mr. Bowman is coming to the station to identify the body, you’re welcome to join him, if you would like?”

“I-I, yes, alright. I’ll be there in a minute. Thank you.” Legolas whispers, voice breaking before he hangs the phone back up on the wall.

“Alright!” Aragorn announces, walking into the room. “I’m all ready.” He pauses when he sees Legolas staring sightless out the window. “Legolas?”

* * *

The rest of the day is spent first at the station, and then at their home. All the party guests have gone home, the house looks like a hurricane has gone through it, Bard almost wishes one had.

“Kids?” he calls when he and Legolas return from the station and Feren finally takes his leave, having been left in charge of the kids while Bard was gone.

“Da? What’s going on?” Sigrid asks, coming to stand in front of her father.

“Kids, there’s something I need to tell you, about your ada.”

“Is this about why he’s late?” Bain questions cocking his head to the side. Legolas sniffles behind Bard and walks away from them, going to sit on the couch. “Da?”

“Your ada was in an accident this morning. He-he died. He-“ Bard trails off, shaking his head as tears well in his eyes.

“Oh.” Tilda exclaims, before dashing into the lounge and clambering into Legolas’ lap, snuggling against his chest. Bain and Sigrid, however, move forward to wrap their arms around Bard and hold on tight.

“I’m sorry, da.” Sigrid murmurs, her voice breaking as tears fall from her eyes. After a few minutes of silent hugging, Bain breaks away from them, disappears into the lounge, there is silence and then the sound of things being angrily torn down.

“Bain!” Bard calls as Tilda starts yelling something he can’t quite make out. He breaks away from Sigrid and enters into the lounge.

“It’s not right to have all this festive stuff up when there’s nothing good to celebrate today!” Bain yells, and there is a crash as their fake tree falls to the ground. Decorations flying everywhere.

“Bain.”

“I hate Christmas. I hate it!” Bain exclaims, tearing the stockings from the fireplace and throwing them on the ground before stomping off into the backyard.

“Well, he’s not wrong, da.” Sigrid whispers, before kissing Bard’s forehead and going to pursue her brother. Bard stands rooted to the spot before turning to the couch, where Tilda and Legolas are doing their best to console each other.

 _Do they know it’s Christmas time at all?_ Bard’s traitorous brain tells him, and Bard growls low in his throat before fleeing the room. He can’t handle this. He can’t handle this, not without Thran. And Thran will never be there again.

* * *

  _I'll be home for Christmas_  
_If only in my dreams._  
 _~I'll Be Home For Christmas, Bing Crosby_


End file.
